


It Wasn't the Meteors

by EstherA2J



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colors, First Meetings, M/M, Memories, That soulmates trope where you don't see colors until you meet your soulmate, Touching, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherA2J/pseuds/EstherA2J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark can't remember a time when he couldn't see colours. Does that mean he has no soulmate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't the Meteors

Golden sunlight slanted in through the window, creating a halo of fire around Martha’s auburn hair as she carefully transferred fresh baked cookies onto cooling racks. Clark slid onto a stool and rested his forearms on the counter, clasping his large hands together. “Mom? How did you meet Dad?”

Her blue eyes took on a faraway look, and a soft smile curved her lips. “It was at Met U. I asked him for his notes for class and our fingers brushed as he handed them to me.” She shook her head slowly, and tiny sparks of light danced around her. “I’d heard the stories before, but nothing can really prepare you for the colours. I think I forgot to breathe for several minutes.”

He reached out and snagged a hot cookie and broke it in half, scattering soft brown crumbs over the counter. “It’s true then? You’re not supposed to see colours until you meet—and touch—your soulmate?”

“That’s what they say.” Her kind eyes met his, and she covered one of his hands with her own and squeezed gently. “Why do you ask, Clark?”

Avoiding her gaze, he pushed the crumbs around with a fingertip, chasing them into a pile on the golden wood surface. “I can’t remember _not_ seeing colours.” He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “What if I don’t have a soulmate? Maybe only humans have soulmates.”

“Oh, honey.” She came around the island and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him tight against her gingham apron. Throat tight, he hugged her back.

♥♥♥

“You don’t believe in soulmates?” Clark turned to stare at Lex, surprised. Lex was the last person he would have expected to hear that from, with his love for epic tales of romance and adventure.

Lex waved a hand dismissively, studying the pool table. Clark could almost see the wheels turning in his head, calculating angles and distance between the vari-coloured balls scattered over the dark red felt. “I have reason to believe the system can be fooled.”

“Really?” That was a theory Clark hadn’t heard before.

Lex bent to line up a shot. “When I was nine, my father brought me to Smallville on a business trip on the day of the meteor shower. Since that day, I’ve never been able to grow hair… but I have been able to see colours.”

“You—you think the meteors did it?” Oddly, that wasn’t the strangest thing Clark had heard of the meteor rocks doing. But it didn’t really make any sense. Usually, the meteor-affected gained some kind of powers or abilities… not something like seeing in colour. Everyone said that could only happen when you met your soulmate. And touched them for the first time. “You didn’t meet anyone here?”

Lex shrugged, watching as the orange five ball fell neatly into a pocket. “To be honest, I don’t remember. I ran into a cornfield just as the meteors started to fall—I was completely lost. There was a young man on a cross—exactly the way I found you. He begged me to help him, but that’s when the meteors started to fall. The rest of that day is a blur.” He straightened up and eyed the table, picking up the bright blue chalk and applying it to the tip of his cue without taking his eyes off the table. “There was no moment of clarity. I didn’t even notice the colours until later, in the hospital.”

Clark’s hands tightened around his own cue. It was bizarre that Lex had been in Smallville the day Clark had arrived, that his life had changed because of Clark, and they hadn’t even seen each other, hadn’t met until years later.

Lex bent to line up another shot. “Before you ask, I didn’t touch the boy on the cross. After that, I have vague memories of riding in a pickup truck with my father. That probably never happened, though. Imagine Lionel Luthor in a beat up farm truck.” He raised his eyes, inviting Clark to join in the joke.

“Riley Field,” Clark murmured, returning Lex’s ironic smile with a distracted grin. That’s where the scarecrow was hung every year, where Lex had found him freshman year. It felt important somehow, like there was something else he should remember about it. Riley Field.

Lex’s smile slipped from ironic to indulgent and he bent back to the table and sent the eight ball smoothly into a pocket. “Look on the bright side, Clark. If soulmates aren’t a real thing, you still have a chance with Lana.”

♥♥♥

“Hey, Mom.” Clark closed the kitchen door behind him and crossed to the fridge, taking out a pitcher of orange juice.

“Hi, Honey.” Martha looked up and smiled from where she was bent over the oven, checking on dinner. She pushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “How was your day?”

Shrugging, he opened the cupboard door and grabbed a glass. “It was okay.” He filled the glass and put the pitcher away, then turned around and leaned back against the counter, watching the golden rays of the sun pour in past the flowered blue curtains. “I was wondering: when you found me… Where was I? Was it Riley Field?”

Closing the oven, she stood and turned to face him, a concerned expression on her face. “No, it was Miller’s Field. Why?”

Shrugging again, he looked down at the sunny orange liquid. “I just—I feel like something happened in Riley Field that day. I don’t really remember that day at all, but it’s like there’s this _almost_ memory…” He realized he was turning the glass around and around in his hands; he lifted it to his lips to take a sip he didn’t taste.

“Well…” Martha sat down on one of the stools at the island, her gaze dropping to her hands as she clasped them together on the countertop. “Lionel and Lex Luthor were in Riley Field that day. Lex had been injured, so we gave them a ride to the hospital.”

Clark slowly sat down across from her, his juice forgotten, his gaze fastened on her. “This was after you found me?”

She met his eyes, her lips curving into a soft, reminiscent smile. “Yes. It was a bit of a tight fit getting us all the truck—it wasn’t even our truck; we had borrowed it to get you home since ours had crashed—and Jonathan was so worried Lionel might notice the spaceship under a tarp in the back, but poor Lex was so young and so scared.” She covered one of his hands with both of hers. “You were so curious about everything, and so taken with Lex.”

“I was?” He _had_ met Lex that day. Met him, and ridden in a cramped truck with him. Was it possible…? “I didn’t… touch him, did I?”

Her smile widened. “You were fascinated—the poor boy had just lost his hair—and you kind of… petted his head.” She squeezed his hand. “You were so gentle and kind. I think that’s when I knew I was going to keep you.”

There was something lodged in Clark’s throat, preventing him from speaking. He wasn’t so different after all. He couldn’t remember a time before the colours because he had been so young when he first met… his soulmate.

♥♥♥

Pushing the doors open, Clark gulped a breath, trying to keep his voice even. “Hey, Lex, do you have a minute?”

Lex looked up from his computer and smiled, the light from the wall length stained glass window behind him casting bars of red across his face. “Of course, Clark. What can I do for you?”

“Well.” Clark ran his hand through his hair, and turned away to pace the length of the room, trying to decide how to begin. “I’d like to tell you a story.”

“Okay. I’m listening.” He could hear the smile in Lex’s voice. There was little Lex loved more than a good story.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Clark rubbed at the back of his neck and gazed into the fireplace, seeking inspiration in the dancing flames, the sinuous oranges and yellows twisting around each other. Nothing for it but to plunge in. “Fifteen years ago, a farmer and his wife found a little boy in a Kansas cornfield. He appeared to be around two years old, though they couldn’t be sure that Earth ages applied to him because beside him what looked like an extraterrestrial craft lay crashed among the cornstalks. They had always wanted a child but had never been able to have one of their own, so they took the little boy home.” He took a breath and moistened his lips. “On the way home, they stopped to help a father and son who had been caught out in the meteor shower.”

Lex made an inarticulate noise, and Clark looked up, but Lex was still, so still he might have been carved from marble, his eyes fastened on Clark with an intensity that would have been frightening if Clark hadn’t known Lex so well. Actually, it was a little frightening anyway.

“They—” Clark’s voice was rough, barely a whisper, and he stopped and cleared his throat, dropping his gaze again. “They gave the father and son a ride to the hospital because the boy had been injured—and somehow he’d had lost all his hair. The younger boy was fascinated, and he patted the other boy’s head.” He raised his eyes, meeting Lex’s stunned gaze. “That day on the bridge wasn’t our first meeting, Lex. And it wasn’t the meteors that triggered colours for you. Or for me.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the snap and pop of the fire, the beat of Lex’s heart, the rush of his quickened breath. Then Lex stood slowly, pushing himself upright with his palms flat on the desk. He circled the desk, and approached Clark slowly, almost hesitantly. Stopping in front of Clark, he whispered, “You—?” He lifted a hand as if to reach out to Clark, then dropped it by his side. Clark had never seen him look so defenseless.

Clark held Lex’s gaze, unable to look away, not wanting to look away. “I cannot remember what it was like before I could see colours. I thought… maybe…” He had to stop to clear his throat again. “I thought that maybe it’s different where I’m from: that maybe I was born seeing colours.” His voice trailed off to a whisper. “I thought this was just another thing that made me different, that I… would always be alone.”

“Clark.” Lex reached out and, this time, caught Clark’s hand. “You are not alone.” He took another step forward and lifted his other hand to cup Clark’s jaw, shaking his head, his eyes full of wonder. “I’ve wasted so much time.” He bent forward, his lashes sweeping down over his cheeks, their nearly colourless gold barely contrasting with his ivory skin.

Their lips met, and Clark found his eyes had closed, but colours were blooming, swirling on the insides of his eyelids, a kaleidoscope that filled his senses.


End file.
